Black Moon
by LiteUpRose
Summary: A story of tragedy and love as it was meant to be


This is a new story that kind of just came to me and I appologize for "Is Love Enough?" not having been finished yet. I am still working on that one as well as this one. I of course do not own any of the characters or the rights to The Phantom of the Opera and all that jazz. So I hope you all enjoy this one and I will be sure to right more soon!

Lots of Love

Black Moon

* * *

Chapter 1 - _Present_

"It has been two months since we..."

"What is your point? You are not welcome here!"

"I need to tell you this! It is important!"

"Then what the hell is it?"

"It has been two months since...that night and I have yet to receive my period. I think that...well it seems very likely that I am with child." Her last sentence nearly caught in her throat as his eyes pierced through her. She immediately knew that it had been a huge mistake to come and tell him in person, but she did not know what else to do or who to turn to.

"You cannot be with child! God would never allow such a thing!"

"Well it seems that he has and Monsieur I need your help."

"Getting rid of it?"

"Oh my God no! I could never do something so evil to a child!"

"Well what exactly do you have in mind, because I refuse to let you birth another spawn of Satan!"

"I love this child though I barely can feel it growing inside of me! I would never let harm come to it."

"Do you really think you can stop me from hurting you or that child?" He threw her against the wall and pinned her arms above her head with one hand, the other finding it's way to her abdomen.

"Do not touch me..."

"Or what? You are pregnant and if you strain your self you might hurt your child and then what kind of mother would you be? But then tell me is that why you came down here? Did you expect me to protect you from the cruel fate that waits for you? Once word gets out that the want to be prima donna is carrying that Phantom of the Opera's child your career and your life will be over. No man will ever want you and your bastard child."

"Stop! Let me go!"

The phantom slowly brushed his lips down her throat to her heaving chest and stopped at her abdomen. Christine's breath became audible as he proceeded to caress her. His grip on her loosened, but remained firm. Christine did not understand his sudden change in behavior, but it soothed her fears. His hands rested on her hips gently making her sway. He began to hum a haunting melody as he kneeled before her, the phantom's lips still caressing her. Christine was reaching a dreamlike state when suddenly the phantom ripped off his mask and stood mearly inches away from her face. Every gnarled bit of flesh and pools of puss were exposed. His bad eye seemed to hang loosely from its socket that was blood red, cut and swollen. Part of his cheek bone was even exposed slightly, the bone having turned yellow many years ago. The scars seemed to have never healed and new sores were still raw. This site was almost too much for Christine, who, had not the wall been behind her, would not have been able to remain on her feet.

"There, now do you see? This ravaged face lay within you, poisoning everything that was good and beautiful about you. It is too late for you Christine. See if this world shows you any mercy!" With that the phantom dropped his hold her and walked toward his organ, sat down and began playing.

Christine could no longer remain upright and slid down the wall to the floor, clutching at her sides. Her tears burned her cheeks and her breath was labored. Christine cried not only for her, but for the Phantom. "What kind of life he must have lived," she thought causing even more tears to flow. She had already made up her mind that she would love the child no matter what it looked like, but she cringed at the thought of how the world would treat it if the child were to be disfigured. The Phantom's music had stopped. He remained at the organ staring at the keys. The only thing that had been beautiful in his life was his music. Never once had the idea of creating a child crossed his mind, because who would want him? Now this young woman had come to tell him that his child will be bore into this world that had ridiculed and raped him of his humanity. "She'll be horrified when she sees it, just like she is now," he thought. "That stupid girl will throw it or worse murder it before it barely takes a breath." The Phantom was desperately trying not to care, but the more he thought about his unborn child, the more he longed for it to live. Christine's sudden coughing threw him from his thoughts. She still lay on the ground in a pool of her own tears. He could see she was shaking and that he cheeks had turned very white.

"Why do remain here," he asked her as harshly as he could muster, because his anger was quickly turning into compassion.

"I have no desire to try to pick myself up from the floor," she hoarsely responded coughing in mid-sentence. "I don't want to see anyone or for anyone to see me. I don't want to have to face their disappointed looks and wicked things that will be said of me. I don't want to see my reflection in a mirror or see a single rose ever again. And I certainly do not want to hear your wretched music playing in my head."

The Phantom was frozen in place. He had not expected Christine to be so forward or so cruel. "Then I suggest you leave my home. You have until tonight to gather up your belongings and leave the Opera Populaire."

"But... you cannot throw me out!"

"I dare you to see what happens should you refuse to leave my angel," he said with all the anger he had before returned to his voice.

* * *

Christine lay in her bed crying desperately into her pillow. "Why is this happening?" she cried out loud. The first and only man she had ever been with was now threatening her life, because she was pregnant with his child. He had made her fall in love with him and she truly did love him. "What are we going to do now?" she whispered to her stomach. She placed her arms around her middle protectively, but soon began to shake again with tears. 


End file.
